Office Politics

“Mike, control yourself! There are better ways of expressing yourself than slapping your boss. This is unacceptable…” said Oga Tayo

“What did you just say?! Un-what? No please, by all means repeat yourself and see whether…”

Mike was hysterical. As I sat there at the meeting, I wondered if he would ever be normal again. He graduated best in his class and was a stickler for saying the truth at all times. 

I remember telling him, when he just joined the company, to find subtler ways of passing across his point, but perhaps I am just a secretary and hence not smart to understand the game. While thinking of what other career options Mike might want to consider, his voice shot through my thoughts.

“Rita had been telling me and I didn’t listen. She always said you all are vipers! And that the few who are good are spineless…”

Eh? Did he just call my name?! How did my name enter the matter o? See me…

“How can I work so hard and yet you won’t promote me? See Tj that resumed after me, I mean I showed the guy what excel sheets look like   though you claimed he was a super-accountant, now he’s my boss!! Five years and I’ve only been promoted once! Five good years. So after using me you all have the guts to promote Shade and tell me if I want to resign that I can??? How dare you…?”

I was afraid he would pull out a gun and shoot someone. His anger stemmed out of his inability to understand that his bosses were tribalists, and slept with underlings, and were biased and also had favorites. He just couldn’t understand that corporate politics crossed every moral line drawn by man.

The company will move on even if he doesn’t. His opinion on what is fair and what isn’t won’t count at the end of year party, his absence or presence won’t remove the toothpick from my bosses mouth. Life will go on, as it always has.

To win, he must learn the game, and then beat it.

I have to go now, I mean I could give you the hot gist of how Oga Tayo is sleeping with both married and unmarried women, even Mike’s wife but I’d save it for later. I have to run now and explain to my boss that Mike had just smoked something this morning and didn’t know what he was saying when he called my name.

It Wasn’t Part of The Plan

Our lives are defined by opportunities; even the ones we miss.

Benjamin Button: [Voice over; letter to his daughter] 

For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or,

In my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. 

There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want.

You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. 

We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it.

And I hope you see things that startle you. 

I hope you feel things you never felt before. 

I hope you meet people with a different point of view. 

I hope you live a life you’re proud of.

If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.

—————————————————————————————-

Sometimes we’re on a collision course, and we just don’t know it.

Whether it’s by accident or by design, there’s not a thing we can do about it. 

A woman in Paris was on her way to go shopping, but she had forgotten her coat – went back to get it. When she had gotten her coat, the phone had rung, so she’d stopped to answer it; talked for a couple of minutes. 

While the woman was on the phone, Daisy was rehearsing for a performance at the Paris Opera House. And while she was rehearsing, the woman, off the phone now, had gone outside to get a taxi. Now a taxi driver had dropped off a fare earlier and had stopped to get a cup of coffee. And all the while, Daisy was rehearsing.

And this cab driver, who dropped off the earlier fare; who’d stopped to get the cup of coffee, had picked up the lady who was going to shopping, and had missed getting an earlier cab. The taxi had to stop for a man crossing the street, who had left for work five minutes later than he normally did, because he forgot to set off his alarm. 

While that man, late for work, was crossing the street, Daisy had finished rehearsing, and was taking a shower. 

And while Daisy was showering, the taxi was waiting outside a boutique for the woman to pick up a package, which hadn’t been wrapped yet, because the girl who was supposed to wrap it had broken up with her boyfriend the night before, and forgot.

When the package was wrapped, the woman, who was back in the cab, was blocked by a delivery truck, all the while Daisy was getting dressed. 

The delivery truck pulled away and the taxi was able to move, while Daisy, the last to be dressed, waited for one of her friends, who had broken a shoelace. 

While the taxi was stopped, waiting for a traffic light, Daisy and her friend came out the back of the theater. 

And if only one thing had happened differently: if that shoelace hadn’t broken; or that delivery truck had moved moments earlier; or that package had been wrapped and ready, because the girl hadn’t broken up with her boyfriend; or that man had set his alarm and got up five minutes earlier; or that taxi driver hadn’t stopped for a cup of coffee; or that woman had remembered her coat, and got into an earlier cab, Daisy and her friend would’ve crossed the street, and the taxi would’ve driven by. But life being what it is – a series of intersecting lives and incidents, out of anyone’s control – that taxi did not go by, and that driver was momentarily distracted, and that taxi hit Daisy, and her leg was crushed.

What a Week!

“**#!#%&@*!” A string of expletives comes out of my mouth as the alarm shatters my sleep. Monday morning! Again!

“Aaargh!” Sigh. I drag myself into the bathroom, groping in the dark. Somehow, my brain refuses to send the commands for my eyes to open fully. It’s probably still trying to enjoy the last lingering sweetness of sleep.

“**#!#%&@*!” Another string explodes as the cold water hits my face. My brain is awake now. I rushed my shower and was back in the room in no time. My brain starts to think of what to wear. An intelligent brain I have, but a lazier body. I know, from the bottom of my heart, that figuring out what you’ll wear in the morning the previous night can save you 30 minutes of dressing time. But I refuse to! Am I cursed? I say my prayers.

Sigh. I drag out clothes though. And a pair of shoes. Check. It looks neat. No need to shine them. Clean socks (don’t mess with athlete’s foot I remind myself). Dress up. Overdose myself with perfume. Why bother? I don’t even perceive them by the time I get to my car. Sigh. I pray other people do even up till close of work.

Rev my lovely mercedes’ engine. She’s old but she’s an awesome piece of engineering. Sally. She has taken me places. So when people ask “who drives this museum artefact?” I just wink at her. They’ll never understand.
Get to work. Pray to find parking space that is close enough to the office but won’t damage my career (parking in your bosses’ spot would do exactly that!). I’m 30 minutes early and I manage to occupy the last spot in the “nearest” space for people like me. Yea, that red camry behind me can’t park here…I took the last slot.

In the office now. What do I do? That’s story for another day. Most of my work is supposed to be on the field though so if it looks like I don’t have anything to do in the office, please don’t tell HR.
Looking up some office babes on the company network. Office babes. Hmm. Sounds tempting. Like the fantasies we had back in our broke school days. Dating a working class chic. Hmm. My friend recently got threatened by his banker chic – now ex. She was going to acidize his face if he tried to collect the expensive phone he had bought for her just before she dumped him. He had been totally played. She’d monitored his accounts and then flirted her way into his life. Sigh. What is the world turning into?

Fantasies don’t ever cover the minor details… for instance that a working class chic would still ask for N10,000 monthly maintenance fee from her boyfriend. Nor that that fair maiden you were breaking your head for would rather hang out with your boss. Hush. Don’t think about it too much. Just shake your head and keep fantasizing. Hmm. Mary is online. Should I…. Oh. There’s an email. Excel sheets! Lawd NOooooooooo!!!

Tuesday. Wednesday. Same. Thursday. Is today Friday? No. Sigh. Same. Friday!!! Yaaay! No night events this weekend. Sleep! Real chilling is when you have no alarm to wake up to. Watching tv. My phone rings. Gurl from Uniport. The rest of the evening is story for another day. Respect the school, that’s the point here.

Saturday. Sports club. 10am. A few good friends. That’s really all we need here on earth. A few good friends. We play lawn tennis. Maybe I should call it tennes because it’s nothing like what is seen on tv with the Nadals and Williams. Professional amateurs we are! But we have fun. And then table tennis. More fun. 4 pm. Everyone heads home. Some of us would have body pains for days.

Sunday. My birthday. I’m really shy about things like these. So I hardly tell people just before. Special apologies to Ify. I get loads of calls and messages. I’m sure I won’t read the ones on facebook for instance. Gave up trying to reply them all years ago. But it does make you appreciate yourself and people around you. A few of my friends come to the house too. I laugh even more pains into my body. Lord I thank You for my life and the life of the people I know. A toast to how far we’ve come!
“**#!#%&@*!” Monday morning! Again!

Written by Kenzo.

The Thread That Connects Us All.

She would never see me that way. She recently just said she sees me as a brother, I honestly wonder where that came from. Not that I’m angry, no I’m not. Ok, maybe a little pissed. Not at her but at the circle of life.

Rosemary just called me to her office, she said she had something to say. As I watched her fiddle with her hair, I imagined what could possibly make her so nervous. “There’s something I’ve always wanted to tell you Osita…”

I went blank. I honestly thought we were really cool as friends because she had often teased me about Rolake and the other chics that easily caught my attention. I mean… It was just weird sha. So I told her I didn’t know what to say because I did not see her that way. But that we would always be friends so there was no need for any “awkwardness”.

So as you may have guessed, that was the last time she spoke to me. I tried to keep in touch but all I got were monosyllabic responses bathed with sublime hatred. I finally heard from a friend of hers that I led her on. See wahala o!

When Rolake told me she sees me as a brother, I remembered the look on Rosemary otherwise perfectly rounded face. It was one of confusion. One of despair.

I would never be hers, Rolake would never be mine. And if I do not find “THE ONE”, I would settle for whatever the puppet master strings.

It’s Monday and November. November is usually better than September, so have a great new month ahead!

Where is My Khaki?

‪#‎memoirsOfAKopa‬

It was supposed to be a good day. The state coordinator had told us to be happy and feel privileged for the opportunity to serve our nation.

He made a first class in Architecture from OAU. Despite the strikes and killings, he escaped only to be a victim

of the government’s indiscretion.

“Tk is dead. He died last week. He was posted to Bauchi under the NYSC scheme, the bomb blast killed him. Yes Aunty, he is dead.”

Obioma take it easy o! The khaki is threadbare and poorly sewn. Just shape it to my size that’s all i want! The one I am wearing na borrow I borrow am o.

I am in this village! After being duped of the N40, 000 to “runs” my posting to Lagos, I still landed here sha. I am neither pregnant nor sick so there’s no way to escape. To say the least, i feel neither happy nor privileged. I feel angry.

Its Christmas and I can’t travel by road back to Lagos. The aeroplanes are bad. the Federal Minister of aviation just blamed God for the last disaster.

So what do i do? Its not like the N19,800 the government pays per month can even afford a “church-rat” class ticket. Oh well.

They have finally signed my cds card. *phew* Now i can go to rest. Oh no i cant rest because the mosquitoes and snakes in that compound will not let me be.

At least I can kill the mosquitoes sha. Bloody native folks!

NTA news: ASUU goes on strike…

Did Tk really deserve to die? Did those plane crashes mean we had offended God? Is it our fault that our leaders

are just plain stupid? Has the NYSC outlived its purpose or are we just fooling ourselves? Why would a tribalistic government still push for national integration

among youth who do not give a damn about the scheme? Isn’t it meant to be voluntary??? We are forced to serve. I apologise, the poor corps members are forced to serve before

gaining any employment within the country while the kids of the rich leave their ghosts to serve.

“Obioma,where’s my khaki? “

“Sorry customer, my pikin dey play with candle nayim she mistakenly burn the leg part. Shey u fit manage am like dt?”

It was supposed to be a good day!